


Crossing Lines

by welcometonerdworld



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chemistry, Fluff, M/M, Rivalry, SnowBaz, baz is a teachers pet, lab partners au, simon is bad at chemistry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-05-25 09:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6189529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welcometonerdworld/pseuds/welcometonerdworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Simon Snow wants is to get a good grade in Chemistry. Baz Pitch, his roommate-slash-nemesis, is the poor sucker who ends up being his lab partner. </p>
<p>Also known as a tooth-achingly fluffy fic featuring Simon the klutz, Baz with a bun and a whole lot of spilled acid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i've got my ion you

**Author's Note:**

> this was beta read by the awesome @rogersvsbarnes over on tumblr. enjoy the fluff!

**Part I: i've got my ion you**   
  


Like he was with most things, Simon Snow was unfortunately clumsy when it came to Chemistry.

He just didn’t get it, honestly. When he’d first started the class he had thought it would be fun – Simon had imagined crazy experiments and blowing up the science lab – instead, it was mainly just following the syllabus word for word so that the students would pass their exams.

When it came to the practical part of their exams, Simon knew he was absolutely fucked – and so did his teacher. Dr. Possibelf was well aware of his issues in the classroom (namely, how he’d accidently pushed over a jar of sulphuric acid the other day and everyone had to be evacuated from the room), and cornered him just before their lesson one day.

“I’ve been pairing everyone in the class up for your practical exams, Simon,” his teacher said in a warning tone, cutting straight to the chase.

Simon bit his lip. It wasn’t like he _tried_ to be bad at Chemistry, he just _was_. The only reason he hadn’t failed up until now was because most of their exams were written, and he’d relied on his best friend Penny to get him through the practicals last year. This year, however, Penny had dropped Chemistry – she didn’t need it for her future linguistics course, but Simon did for the psychology degree he wanted to do – so he was on his own.

“I’ve decided to put you and Basilton Pitch together. Is that alright with you?”

He stared at her. Simon Snow and Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch (or Baz, as he was better known to his peers) had a notoriously volatile relationship. They had been roommates for several years; Simon disliked Baz due to his family’s snobbery, plus he was infinitely jealous of the fact that Baz was captain of the football team. Baz hated Simon because...well. Simon actually didn’t know, but he reckoned it was because Simon was an orphan with no respectable heritage or some crap like that. Also, he had a tendency to leave his stuff _everywhere_ , and Baz was nothing but a neat freak.

Simon considered for a moment. Yes, he and Baz didn’t get on. But they were used to each other’s habits, and – more importantly – Baz was top of the class.

“Okay,” Simon conceded, “I’ll try not to blow anything up this time.”

He could only hope that his efforts would succeed.

* * *

 

“Baz.”

“Snow.”

It was ten past nine on a Thursday morning. Simon stood facing Baz Pitch, the two of them adorned in dirty white lab coats with ridiculous safety goggles perched upon their heads. Simon noticed that Baz’s goggles had pulled his mid-length hair back, emphasising his widow’s peak and making his cheekbones stand out even more than usual.

He blinked. “So. Thanks for being my partner.”

For some reason, this made Baz blush, and then sneer, “I know you’re going to fuck up, Snow. Just don’t fuck this up for me, alright?”

Simon rolled his eyes, “I’ll try my best. Wouldn’t want to mess up your future med career.”

Baz frowned, his eyebrows knitting together over his steel-coloured eyes, “How d’you know about that?”

The pair of them sat down as Dr. Possibelf entered the room and the students started to quieten down.

“We do live together, remember?” Simon said, “I’m not totally oblivious to all the med school leaflets on your desk.”

The other boy scowled, “At least I don’t leave them on your side of the room, Snow...do you know how many brochures I’ve found for psychology courses on my side?”

“Simon and Basilton, if you could postpone your dispute until after my lesson, that would be greatly appreciated,” Dr. Possibelf cut in. Simon was certain he’d never seen Baz go so red – he was the number one teacher’s pet, and it was pretty clear that he never got told off.

They muttered apologies and listened to the teacher’s explanation of their exam. Simon gulped at the prospect of nearly half of his marks coming from just a few experiments he would be doing with Baz – he wasn’t sure if the pair of them would even survive one lesson together.

* * *

 

A week later, Simon was still (miraculously) alive, and so was Baz. They’d had a few mishaps here and there – Simon had gotten annoyed at Baz for a snide comment and spilled some hydrochloric acid onto the table – but for the most part, they were fine.

They’d even sorted out a kind of system wherein Simon would tell Baz how much to get of what, and Baz would handle the actual _doing_ part of the experiment. Simon would then begin to write up their experiment whilst Baz carefully recorded the results. Even Dr. Possibelf was impressed, much to Baz’s joy. Simon found himself looking at the other boy on more occasions than necessary, purely because he so rarely saw Baz smiling.

“What are you staring at?” Baz snapped during one such moment.

Simon flushed, “Nothing. Just trying to remember what came next after the acid...”

Baz leaned over to look at what Simon was writing, his chest bumping into Simon’s shoulder. When he spoke, his breath fanned softly over Simon’s cheek, “Acid plus base, remember? It was ten millilitres.”

“Thanks,” said Simon, exhaling as Baz moved away again.

“You’re welcome.”

* * *

 

The civility was _killing_ him.

Okay, fine. It wasn’t that bad. Simon didn’t exactly enjoy fighting with Baz; he wasn’t totally fucked up. He was just used to it – after all these years, it had become a strange habit of theirs – and the way they were acting now, like the other was made of glass and just about to shatter, was infuriating.

Simon wondered how on earth they’d ended up like this. Baz hadn’t made any rude comments for an entire _three weeks_ , which was an outstanding feat for him. Likewise, Simon had actually made an effort to keep the bathroom tidy with Baz’s hair products exactly how he left them.

In class, they were a real team; moving effortlessly around each other and staying at the same pace as the rest of their classmates.

Still, even if their newfound mutual acceptance was working, Simon would be lying if he said it wasn’t freaking him out slightly. He was even considering asking Baz if something was wrong – that was, until Dr. Possibelf decided to approach the pair of them.

It was nearing the end of their lesson on Monday afternoon, and Simon was just scribbling down a conclusion as Baz was cleaning up their test tubes in the sink. As the teacher’s shadow fell over the desk, both boys looked to her.

“You’ve been getting on well,” Dr. Possibelf noted, “Not even a breakage!”

Simon glanced at Baz; to his surprise, the other boy was staring straight back at him. “Snow – I mean, Simon – and I have decided to call a truce.”

_We did?_ Simon gaped at Baz, bemused, _And since when does Baz call me Simon?_

“A good idea, I think,” Dr. Possibelf nodded, “However, I have noticed that you, Basilton, have been doing most of the practical work, and Simon has been doing most of the writing. Is that correct?”

Simon looked at Baz again, and then at the teacher, “Well, we thought it was best to avoid breaking anything, like you said –“

“Yes, Simon,” she agreed, “But unfortunately, I need _both_ of you to do all the work in order for you to be sufficiently graded.”

“Oh.” said Baz, speechless for once.

“Indeed,” said Dr. Possibelf. She gave each of them a pointed look before returning to the front of the room.

The boys stared at each other. Baz’s eyes were wide with alarm; Simon set his jaw determinedly.

“You better fucking not mess this up, Snow.”

“I’ll try.”

* * *

 

Unfortunately, Simon was all too excellent at messing things up. Try as hard as he might, he couldn’t quite manage to get the correct measurement for their experiments, meaning countless time was lost spent re-doing them again and again.

He could tell Baz was getting angry from the way he dug the pen into the page when he was writing down the experiment. Every time Simon paused to bite his lip in confusion, Baz would glare daggers into the side of his head and boss him around.

_At least we aren’t being civil anymore_ , Simon mused, _That was even weirder._

The pair of them had returned to their usual bickering state, and Simon was frankly getting quite sick of spending so much time talking to Baz. Since they were partners in Chemistry, he found himself asking Baz for homework help in their room, whilst Baz went out of his way to remind Simon about how to be more careful in the lab, even when they were about to go to bed (“Tuck your fucking elbows in, you chicken,” was Baz’s favourite piece of advice).

Simon wasn’t even that surprised when Dr. Possibelf told them that it would probably be a good idea for them to complete their experiment that evening, since the rest of the class was ahead and they needed to catch up.

He felt guilty about slowing Baz down – that was, until Baz started yelling at him that evening.

Simon’s stomach gurgled for what must have been the seventh or eighth time in an hour as he tipped some potassium chloride into a beaker of water. Dr. Possibelf had her headphones on at the front of the room as she was supposed to be “supervising”, which pretty much left Simon and Baz alone to argue.

“Why didn’t you go to dinner before coming here?” Baz hissed, “Your stomach’s growling is distracting me.”

Simon swore under his breath, setting the timer on their experiment and turning to face Baz, “For your information, I _did_ go to dinner. You shouldn’t even be able to hear my stomach unless you have fucking bat ears.”

“Well then, fucking eat more! It’s not like you don’t have the space; I’ve seen you shovel down about twelve scones in a row at breakfast. And just because my hearing is decent doesn’t mean I should have to suffer listening to your weird body sounds.”

Simon was certain that this was one of the strangest arguments they’d ever had (His stomach and Baz’s hearing? _Really?_ ) but he couldn’t care less. Finally, a real _fight_. As odd as it was, he felt his energy returning to him and stood up straighter, clenching his jaw.

“ _My_ weird body sounds? What about yours, huh? Don’t think I haven’t been hearing your creepy night-time noises, Baz – you’ve been whinging in your sleep since fucking _first year_.”

A loud scraping noise rang out in the lab as Baz pushed back his stool and stood, stepping closer to Simon and towering over him, even though their height difference was only a few centimetres or so.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Snow,” Baz glowered, voice low and threatening, “So I suggest you shut your fucking mouth right now –“

“Or what? You going to shout at me in your sleep too? Fuck off, Pitch –“

Then, a crash. Simon had flung out his arms in anger, and the beaker that he’d carefully placed on the table tipped over. Baz lunged, but missed: glass flew everywhere, and liquid spilled out onto the floor.

“The two of you, out – _out!_ See me tomorrow for detention!” Dr. Possibelf howled. Clearly, she’d heard the noise over her music. With not a moment to lose, Baz stormed out of the lab, Simon scurrying after him.

* * *

 

Simon hated detention. Just after most of his lessons and the wait before lunch, it was his most hated part about school. He didn’t actually receive many of them, on account of the fact that he was normally quite good at blending in with his classmates, but when he did, they were dull, tedious, and usually involved him staring out the window, watching little figures run across the football pitch – one of whom he knew to be Baz.

This time, however, Baz wasn’t outside. He was in detention right with Simon. They had been assigned to scrub the entirety of the Chemistry and Biology labs, much to Simon’s dismay – if the Chemistry labs were dirty, the Biology ones were absolutely _filthy_. Simon was sure he’d seen a dissected part of an animal’s eye stuck to the floor.

The night before, Simon and Baz had gone to bed without a word to each other. Simon, however, had stayed awake for what seemed like several hours. He felt terrible about the fight, as thrilling as it had been at the time. He was fucking everything up for Baz, who he knew actually tried a lot to maintain his position at the top of the year. Baz hadn’t exactly asked to be paired with someone incompetent at Chemistry. He’d even _agreed_ to be Simon’s partner – and all Simon had done in return was make some nasty comments that he knew were uncalled for.

He didn’t know a lot about Baz’s history before Watford, even though they’d lived together for so many years, but he did know that Baz had lost his mum when he was younger, and that one of the words he muttered in his sleep repeatedly was _Mother._

Still. He didn’t quite have the guts to apologise, not when Baz was putting all his efforts into looking away from him and scrubbing the floor like it was Simon’s face.

Dr. Possibelf had been so furious that she’d actually left Simon and Baz to clean up by themselves – perhaps not such a smart move, but she’d said they needed to “sort things out between the two of you”, whatever that meant.

Simon picked at a piece of dried chewing gum under one of the desks and sighed loudly. The silence was absolutely suffocating; it was even worse than actually speaking to Baz.

He was just considering actually saying something when Baz’s voice sounded from across the room, emotionless and quiet, but still audible, “Have you got any more paper towels?”

Simon’s head shot up; he narrowly missed whacking it into the table. He stood quickly, grabbing his roll of paper towel. Instead of chucking it over to Baz like he normally would have, he crossed the room in a few strides, handing it to the other boy directly.

Baz looked tired. Simon hadn’t noticed that morning when they’d gotten up, but up close he could see that the dark-haired boy had purple shadows under his eyes, and his hair was slightly out of place due to the cleaning the boys had been doing. He’d even removed his blazer and jumper, revealing a creased white shirt and crooked tie.

“Here,” Simon said, trying not to flinch as Baz’s fingers brushed over his when he took the roll. Simon turned, heading back to his side of the room. He was almost there when something stopped him – a hand on his wrist.

Slowly, he pivoted on his heel, coming to look at Baz. He wondered if Baz was going to punch him for being such an utter dick. Briefly, an image flew into his mind of Baz leaning in and kissing him.

Simon knitted his brows. _Where did that come from?_

“I –“ Baz started.

Simon interrupted him, “Listen, I know I’ve been a right arsehole. You just really get on my nerves –“

“Yeah, you have,” Baz said defensively, “And you’re not that easy to live with either, you know.”

“I know,” Simon deflated, “I want to say – I’m sorry. Really. I know this class is important to you and I swear I’m not _trying_ to be shit, I just _am_ –“

Baz let go of Simon’s wrist, shoving his hands into his hair exasperatedly, “Fucking hell, Snow, I don’t care about the goddamn class. I’m pissed because of what you – what you said yesterday.”

“What I – yeah. I’m sorry about that too.” Simon looked him right in the eye, trying to be as genuine as possible. He didn’t remember ever actually apologising to Baz Pitch before, but he reckoned there was a first time for everything, “I know it’s not my place – not like we’re friends or anything – but I know what it’s like to live without a mum. I didn’t know mine like you knew yours, but – I get it. I know I crossed a line.”

Baz gave him a wry look, fixing his hair with a hand. “We cross a lot of lines, Snow.” Simon wondered if he was referring to the time when Baz had almost killed him, but he stayed silent. “I’m not about to have a heart-to-heart with you, because like you said, we aren’t exactly friends.”

Simon paused. Then, “But? I hear a ‘but’.”

Baz rolled his eyes, “But thanks for the apology.”

“Truce?”

This time, it was Baz’s turn to hesitate. He nodded slowly, “Truce. But we better hurry up with the cleaning, or else we’ll miss the whole of dinner, and I don’t think you could handle that.”

Simon had to admit that Baz had a point.


	2. Ah! the element of surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> simon & baz start being civil to each other. simon stares at baz's hair, baz talks to agatha, and simon has a few interesting dreams.

**Part II: Ah! The element of surprise**

It was strange, being around Baz and not wanting to sock him in the face. Simon wasn’t used to it at all.

Penny insisted that Simon should remain cautious – Baz had basically tried to off him enough times before – but for some reason, Simon couldn’t help but trust Baz.

Maybe it was the way that Baz had stopped ratting on Simon for leaving his pyjamas on the floor. Or it could have been how he actually helped Simon with some homework without complaining about Simon’s stupidity.

Whatever it was, it was kind of freaking Simon out – mainly because he actually enjoyed this newfound civility. He could almost imagine being Baz’s friend, sometimes. He was really a lot more like Penny than Simon had originally realised; they shared the same sarcasm and love for learning and proving themselves. If Simon was best friends with Penny, why couldn’t he at least get on with Baz?

So he started making more of an effort. Nothing over the top, but just simple things: he paid attention to every detail of Baz’s movements during their experiments, so Simon could copy him perfectly. He put his towel on the radiator like Baz always told him to instead of leaving it on the floor. He even tolerated Baz practising his violin after nine in the evening.

“You’re really good at that,” Simon said once, during a pause in Baz’s playing, “I never told you before.”

Baz’s gaze flittered from his music book to Simon, and back again. The hand that was holding his bow froze. “Err...thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” Simon said promptly, turning back to his laptop screen.

He liked the way Baz blushed at the compliment.

* * *

It was dark. Simon was following Baz, hidden by the shadows of the night, but he was sure Baz knew he was there. He didn’t know where they were headed – all he knew was that Baz was up to something and Simon was going to find out what it was.

They weaved through the corridors, down passageways that Simon hadn’t even known existed. Baz came to an abrupt halt just before a door and whipped round.

Simon didn’t even have time to hide, much less invent an alibi. He opened his mouth to speak, watching apprehensively as Baz started forwards, taking slow, menacing steps closer and closer...

In the dim light of the corridor, Simon could just about see Baz stepping towards him, a feral smile on his face. He watched with something akin to awe as Baz’s left hand came up to touch his face, his right hand resting on Simon’s waist.

Baz’s hands were so cold against Simon’s skin that he felt like he was on fire.

 _Simon_ , the air seemed to whisper, and it was coming from Baz’s mouth. _Simon_.

Simon leaned up; Baz closed in.

“Simon.”

He tilted his head just a fraction so that their lips could touch –

“ _Snow_.”

Simon woke with a jolt. His entire body jerked, and one of his hands flew to the cheek that he had been certain Baz was touching.

He opened his eyes. The dark-haired boy from his dream stared back at him, with a look on his face that was far too similar to the one Simon had just pictured in his head.

“You’re such a heavy sleeper,” Baz complained, “Hurry up or else we’ll miss Chemistry.”

Simon was sure he’d never gone so red in his entire life.

“You go without me,” he mumbled, thinking that he’d better take an ice cold shower before his lessons, “I’ll catch up.”

Baz raised an eyebrow, but followed Simon’s instructions. Simon felt half relieved, half disappointed that Baz had listened. He called out just before Baz left the room, “Baz?”

“What, Snow?”

“Did you...did you call me Simon? When you were waking me up?”

Baz locked eyes with Simon. Again, the image of Baz swooping down to kiss him reappeared in his head. But something in his grey eyes hardened, and he said, “No, Snow. We aren’t friends, remember?”

* * *

Baz’s hair was getting long.

Simon didn’t even know why he had noticed. It wasn’t like he spent all his time looking at Baz (even though he was extremely jealous of the perfect way Baz swept his hair back over his forehead so that it fell elegantly, highlighting his cheekbones) but Simon supposed it was difficult not to notice when your Chemistry partner started tying his hair up into a bun.

It wasn’t even a big deal; Simon knew he was being stupid. But he just couldn’t help but peer at Baz out of the corner of his eye when he was supposed to be concentrating on some boring titration experiment. Gazing at how, when Baz’s hair was tied back, Simon could actually see the sides of his face and his light stubble. He almost reached out to tuck in a lock of Baz’s hair that had come loose from his bun.

Simon was rudely extracted from his reverie when Baz put down a bottle of an unidentifiable substance with a loud thump on the table. “Are you stuck?”

“What?”

“Are you stuck on the experiment again?”

“Wha – no. Sorry, just daydreaming.”

Baz rolled his eyes. “Listen, I’m aware it’s Valentine’s Day and all but that doesn’t give you a free pass to do fuck all. Wait until after school for your sexual whatsits with Agatha.”

Simon frowned, “I didn’t even realise it was Valentine’s Day. Plus, Agatha dumped me, so. No ‘sexual whatsits’ for me.”

“She did?” Baz said incredulously, and then changed his tone to a more casual one, “I mean – I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, something about needing to focus on school or whatever,” Simon shrugged, “We were always better off as friends anyway.”

“Right...friends.” Baz muttered, and that was the end of the conversation.

Simon, for his part, went straight back to staring at the side of Baz’s head. _I’m so screwed_ , he thought, but he couldn’t care less.

* * *

Simon _hated_ Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. Absolutely _hated_ him.

It was bad enough that he’d recently come to the awful conclusion that Baz – no, _Pitch_ – was actually very attractive. Simon had had no less than five dreams that featured some version of Baz and him together, and he was honestly starting to get a little sick of it, mainly because he knew his feelings would never be reciprocated.

No, the thing that was really pissing him off about Basilton Pitch was that the boy was currently holding hands with Agatha Wellbelove: Simon’s ex-girlfriend.

Simon was all too aware that it was a bit rich for him to be angry at Baz, because he’d been a rubbish boyfriend to Agatha – no doubt Baz would be a lot better. But that didn’t stop his blood boiling in his veins as he watched the pair, standing together on the edge of the football pitch, looking picture perfect.

Baz laughed at something Agatha said, and she beamed back at him, twirling a strand of blonde hair around her finger. Simon’s hands clenched into fists, and he sprinted all the way back to his room, glaring at the ground all the way.

* * *

“You weren’t at dinner,” Baz noted the minute he came through the door. Simon was lying on his bed, arms crossed tightly so that he closely resembled an angry corpse.

“Well observed,” Simon replied, wishing his bed would just swallow him whole.

He listened to the sounds of Baz taking off his football boots and jumper. “Why?”

“Wasn’t hungry.”

The noises Baz was making stopped, only to be replaced by a burst of laughter, “Simon Snow, not hungry? What is the world coming to?”

Simon wasn’t laughing, and a moment later, Baz noticed.

“What really happened?”

Slowly, Simon propped himself up with his hands so he could shift his glower from the ceiling to Baz. “What were _you_ doing with Agatha?”

Baz raised an eyebrow whilst tidying his desk. Simon felt the urge to take him by the chin just so he’d look at him. “Agatha Wellbelove?” Baz asked casually.

A flare of irritation sparked in Simon’s chest, “What other Agatha goes to our school?” Then, when it became evident that Baz wasn’t going to reply, “What were you doing with Agatha on the pitch?”

Finally, Baz turned to look at him, an infuriating smirk on his mouth, “How is that any of your business?”

Simon suppressed a growl and got up, stomping over to Baz, “Agatha’s my friend, _Pitch_. I don’t want you messing with her.”

Baz tilted his head back with a cool, superior look, “Are you _jealous_ , Snow? Trying to get back with her?”

“No,” Simon said, his voice raising in volume, “I just don’t want you near her –“

“She’s not your property, Snow,” Baz pointed out, lip curling upwards. Simon wanted to punch him, or kiss the look off his face – maybe both. Both sounded good.

“Stop interrupting me,” Simon’s hands clenched into fists. Baz didn’t miss the movement.

“Going to beat me up? Thought you were better than that,” Baz had the audacity to chuckle, “Perfect Simon Snow, good at everything except his lessons –“

“Shut the fuck up, Baz.”

“Little Simon Snow with his sidekick Bunce and his trophy girl Wellbelove –“

“They aren’t –“

“Too bad, Snow. You saw Agatha with me on the pitch, right? She wants me. Not you.”

“You lay a hand on her and I’ll –“

“You’ll _what,_ Snow? You gonna use the headmaster as a way of getting out of trouble again? Oh wait, you do that all the time –“

Simon had had enough. Faster than light, he clapped a hand over Baz’s mouth.

Baz didn’t even flinch. Instead, he narrowed his grey eyes. Then – “Ouch! What the fuck, Baz?”

He had bitten Simon’s finger, hard. Baz must have had fairly sharp teeth, because when Simon inspected his hand he found two bright red lines marked into his skin.

“You’re a fucking psycho, Baz...” he trailed off. Baz had reached out to cup the sides of Simon’s face between his hands. His palms were cold against Simon’s burning face, like ice melting into flames. The movement might have been violent, but Baz’s touch was soft, tentative – not forceful.

He thought about pushing Baz away, considered punching him right in the face. Instead, he leant into Baz’s hands, tipping his head up and forwards. Baz met him halfway, and his mouth closed over Simon’s.

Baz’s hands might have been freezing, but his lips were warm. Smooth and pliant, moving seamlessly against Simon’s. Simon moved his hands to rest on Baz’s shoulders almost of their own accord as he kissed him furiously, slipping his tongue across the sharp edges of teeth that had just bitten him.

Baz tasted like chocolate, dark and rich. His scent was woodsy – Simon had already known that – but up close, the smell was amplified, like they had suddenly been transported to a faraway forest. Simon pulled Baz’s plush lower lip between his teeth, almost as retaliation, but he was too careful, too slow to be vengeful.

Baz pulled away first, eyes wide. Simon wished he could lean back in and kiss him again, but he stopped himself.

“Why did you do that?” Baz looked like he was in a trance.

“You kissed me,” Simon said defensively, “So I kissed you back.”

A pause. “I wanted to,” Baz said. Never before had Simon heard him say something that was so unabashed, so honest.

“So did I.”

The next pause was longer. Simon took the time to study Baz – his face, usually quite pale, was flushed, his lips were glistening, red as cherries. His grey eyes were blown wide with – confusion? Desire? Simon wasn’t sure, but he expected he was in a similar state.

He decided to speak. “Listen, Baz. I’m not – I mean, I don’t know what I’m doing. I never really do, and you know that. I thought I was straight and you were with Agatha and I –“

“I’m not with Agatha,” Baz interrupts, “She just fancies me, that’s all. I don’t like her that way.”

“Right. Well, the point is that I’m at a bit of a loss. You’ve always hated me, I’ve always hated you, and that’s the way we’re used to being.”

“That’s not the way I want to be.”

Simon is almost stunned into silence by his honesty. Almost.

“Then why didn’t you say anything before? Why didn’t you just – I dunno, be civil? Nice? We could have been friends at least –“

“I don’t want to be friends,” Baz said loudly, then lowered his voice as if he’d realised what he just said, “I mean, I want more. I know it’s not fair for me to expect that of you and that’s why I’m so – such a dick to you. It’s just easier that way.”

“ _What’s_ easier?” Simon asked incredulously, “I don’t understand you – one minute you’re yelling and insulting me, next minute you’re kissing me and telling me you want to be – what, my boyfriend?”

“It’s easier not to love you if I try to hate you!” Baz burst out. He was shaking all over. Simon had never seen him look so affected by anything, “I get it, alright Simon? I get that you think this was a mistake. It’s fine. I’ll just – I’ll leave you alone.”

“What – Baz?”

But Baz was already shoving his feet into his shoes, not even bothering to do up the laces as he swept out of the room.

“Wait!” Simon called just as the door slammed.

He looked at the door, at the spot Baz had just been standing. Simon placed a finger to his lips and swore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! please comment/leave kudos :) last part will be up asap.


	3. oppositely charged ions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon gets some wise advice from Penny and actually decides to listen, with positive results.

**Part III: oppositely charged ions**

"He _what?_ "

"He kissed me," Simon said miserably, "And he hasn't been in lessons all day and we have Chemistry this afternoon and I've fucked everything up, haven't I?"

Penny stared at Simon, "Yes, you've fucked everything up royally!"

"Thanks, Penny."

"What on earth – what were you _thinking_? Do you actually – Simon!"

"I was thinking that Basilton Pitch was kissing me and I wanted to kiss him back. Then I was confused and somehow sent him the entirely wrong message."

"Which was?"

"He thinks that I think the kiss was a mistake."

"Well? Was it?"

"No!" Simon yelled. He hesitated, "No, it wasn't. I wanted to kiss him and I want to do it again."

He kicked at the small rocks on the pathway. Simon and Penny were walking around the school grounds during their lunchtime – he had told Penny that he had something important to tell her at breakfast, but then he'd been too worried about where Baz had gone to actually explain what had happened.

"So what's the issue, Simon?" Penny asked, "Seems pretty simple to me: go tell Baz what you just told me, hold his hand and kiss him. Finished."

"It's not that simple," Simon moaned. He was aware that he was acting like a total prat, but he didn't care, "We've never been friends – we're like arch enemies! How do you go from hating someone to snogging them?"

"It's called sexual tension, Simon," Penny pointed out, "And now that I think about it, this is actually quite a good idea. You two would go well together."

"We're polar opposites."

"They say that opposites attract," Penny countered, smirking. Simon wanted to wring the necks of whoever 'they' were.

"Do you think he'll come to Chemistry?" Simon wondered aloud.

"Probably. If there's anything I know about Basilton Pitch, it's that he takes his future very seriously. He needs that grade for uni, and he's not about to let you take over for him."

"Cheers, Penny," Simon muttered, knowing that she was right. He just couldn't decide if he actually wanted to face Baz or not.

* * *

Penny was right – Baz was in Chemistry before Simon even entered the room. Simon sat next to him without a word, watching him nervously out of the corner out of his eye.

The lesson began, and Baz scraped his chair back as he went to get the equipment they needed. Simon dug around the cupboards for a Bunsen burner, and when he returned to the desk, Baz was back, scribbling down some notes.

Simon cleared his throat, "Do you want me to fill up the beaker?"

"Okay," Baz's voice was so low, Simon barely heard him. He gulped, walking away and then watching Baz from the sink. He filled the beaker with water and went back.

"So."

With a sigh, Baz looked up. His gaze was hard, weary. "What, Snow?"

"Are we going to talk about what happened yesterday?"

Baz glared, "You better not fucking out me to the whole class."

"I wouldn't do that," Simon said, "And the same goes for you."

Baz put down his pen and cocked his head, "So you aren't straight?"

Simon shrugged, "Who knows. I'm not so fussed about the label."

Sneering, Baz rolled his eyes, "Well, that's lovely for you. Can we get back to work now?" He turned away to grab a test tube.

"Wait."

" _What_ , Snow?"

"I just – I didn't mean what I said yesterday," Simon stage-whispered, looking around to see if any of his classmates were eavesdropping, "It wasn't a mistake."

Baz clenched his jaw, "So what, you've just changed your mind?"

"No, I meant to say this the whole time. I was just confused. I'd never kissed a guy before –"

"Neither had I."

"Well," Simon fumbled, "You knew you were gay, right?"

"Shhh," Baz hissed, "Yes, fine. I knew."

"What I'm trying to say – no, don't interrupt! – is that I know you said that hating me is easier. Hating you is easier too."

Baz's expression was a cross between hurt and exasperated, "How fucking romantic. Listen, Snow, we don't actually have time for this –"

"I don't want things to be easy."

Simon waited with bated breath as Baz processed his words. Baz's eyebrows knitted together, "Okay..."

"I don't want things to be easy," Simon repeated, "Because I like you. I'm not going to say I love you, at least not yet, because that wouldn't be fair to either of us. But I will say it's a possibility. If hating me is easy for you, I want to make loving me easier." He could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks.

Baz stared. Simon bit his lip impatiently.

"You really do like overcomplicating things, don't you," Baz finally let out a huff of laughter. The tension in Simon's chest broke, and a rush of affection for his Chemistry partner ran through him.

He allowed himself a brief grin. "Should we get back to work then?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

* * *

Simon and Baz raced back to their room as soon as the bell rang. Amazingly, Simon managed to reach the door first in spite of the fact that Baz's legs were longer, only to be elbowed aside as Baz shoved his key into the lock and practically fell through the door.

Simon followed, breathing heavily, and went to sit beside Baz on his bed. The two of them caught their breaths, sharing nervous grins as they felt their hearts race.

"Now what?" Simon asked, silently admiring Baz's flushed cheeks and crinkled eyes.

Baz took his hand, "Now we have our happily ever after."

Simon's lips curved upwards. He leant forwards, titling his head and planting his lips firmly on Baz's. As happily ever after's go, Simon was pretty satisfied with theirs so far.

* * *

**One month later**

"I've been extremely impressed with how you two have been cooperating," Dr. Possibelf commented, smiling at the pair of them. Simon was holding Baz's hand under the desk, and he felt Baz squeeze it.

"I don't think you'll have any problems getting those grades, Basilton. You've certainly helped Simon's marks as well – good job, both of you."

The teacher nodded at them before leaving the room. All the other students had already cleared out, leaving Simon and Baz alone at their desk.

"Will you miss this lab when we're gone?" Baz asked, trailing a finger in circles on Simon's palm.

Simon snorted, "No, I hate Chemistry." Then, at the admonitory look on Baz's face, "Alright, fine. It wasn't so bad – I liked working with you."

"Working with you was...interesting," Baz smirked. Simon shoved him lightly.

"Interesting-bad or interesting-good?"

"Well, your experimental skills were definitely bad. They weren't even interesting, just fucking scary," Baz laughed. Simon stuck out his tongue childishly.

"Is that all?"

Baz shrugged noncommittally, "I guess getting you to fall in love with me was interesting-good."

Now it was Simon's turn to look smug, "You loved me first."

Rolling his eyes, "It's not a competition, Snow."

"Everything's a competition with us. And it's _Simon_ ," Simon replied, leaning forwards suddenly to give his boyfriend a chaste kiss.

"What kind of a kiss is that?" Baz muttered, catching Simon's lower lip between his teeth momentarily. Simon wiggled his eyebrows, causing Baz to laugh.

"We'd better go," said Simon, "Unless you want Possibelf to find us snogging in the lab."

"I'm pretty sure that violates some sort of safety rule," Baz said, following Simon's lead out of the classroom.

"In that case, let's stay –" Simon began, grinning.

Baz tugged on his hand, "C'mon, Simon. There's some lines that we really shouldn't cross, and lab safety is one of them."

Simon ignored his advice, instead choosing to step forwards between Baz's legs and drag him down for a kiss. "We're good at crossing lines," he murmured against the other boy's mouth. He knew he was one hundred percent correct on this one – Simon was certain that the point of being lab partners was _not_ to fall in love, but he and Baz had done it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's the end! hope you enjoyed it, i know the last part was shorter but i think there was enough fluff to make up for it :P please leave kudos/comment/reblog on my tumblr @lilypxtter :)

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it! please comment/leave kudos :) next chapter should be up soon!


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